


Punishment is the sweetest thing

by electricblueninja



Category: Super Junior
Genre: M/M, marshmallow couple
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-24
Updated: 2016-07-24
Packaged: 2018-07-26 11:36:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7572652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/electricblueninja/pseuds/electricblueninja
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I'm <a href="https://vine.co/v/OL6vHAXMTTd"> still not over it</a>.</p><p>Sequel to <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/4436186"> A-cha</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Punishment is the sweetest thing

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Oedura](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oedura/gifts).



Donghae should have known that Ryeowook would exact revenge.

 

 

Actually, no, not ‘should have known’. He _had_ known that Ryeowook would exact revenge. He’d known that much well before he’d brought his clever plan with the desk to fruition. But Ryeowook had been so deliciously mortified that there was no way he was going to let him get away without appropriate punishment.

 

 

He just hadn’t known _when_ it would be exacted, or what form it would take.

 

 

He’s been looking forward to it, though.

 

 

The anticipation has built up over several weeks, during which life has kept them too busy to see each other often. They’ve only had time for fleeting encounters—a dinner here, a drink there. No time for revenge.

 

 

Then, earlier this week, they’d managed to coordinate some time together over Saturday afternoon and evening, which they both had free. And, rather than meeting outside, Ryeowook had invited Donghae to come round to his home, which was a small apartment in a leafy district bordering the university.

 

 

Now, Donghae had visited him there before a few times, all of which had been intimate and memorable. So by now the anticipation was full-blown excitement, and here he was: in front of Ryeowook’s building, slightly late, carefully dressed, well-groomed, and practically salivating for the sight of his partner.

 

 

He takes the lift (it is hot, and he doesn’t want to arrive sweaty), and knocks at Ryeowook’s door.

 

 

‘You’re late,’ comes the velveteen voice, as Ryeowook opens it.

 

 

‘Good things come to those who wait,’ Donghae replies, but it’s nothing more than bravado. His stomach flips at his own cheek, but Ryeowook just smiles faintly, which means that he is safe.

 

 

For now.

 

 

As usual, Ryeowook looks calm and perfect. His white shirt is crisp and impeccable; his hair impossibly sleek and shiny. The only hint that he has had a long week is the slight shadows under his eyes, and the light stubble above his delicate lips. And the only sign it is the weekend is the dark blue jeans, clinging skintight to his hips and thighs.

 

 

Donghae already wants him.

 

 

‘I made you lunch,’ Ryeowook is saying, and Donghae abruptly returns his attention to the other man’s face, unable to hide his enthusiasm.

 

 

‘You did?’

 

 

‘Yeah. You were starting to look thin, so I made you bulgogi. Come in,’ he adds, standing aside, but only a little, and Donghae does as he is told, brushing close up against the other man’s body, and earning himself a warm-eyed stare.

 

 

Ryeowook follows him closely and they move into the interior of the small apartment, which smells delicious.

 

 

Donghae turns back to the other man with the two small bags he’s brought, holding them out shyly. ‘I was late because of the line,’ he explains, sheepish.

 

 

Ryeowook accepts the bags with slight surprise, and gives him a questioning look, so he expands the explanation: ‘Egg tarts, from that bakery you liked...And coffee. It’s freshly ground. Maybe for...like...afternoon tea. You know.’

 

 

Another smile. Soft, like the skin under his—

 

 

‘Thank you. Now sit down and eat something, okay? I spent ages making this.’

 

 

Donghae takes his place at the table, which is set for two. (‘His’ place? Well, it was getting that way.) Ryeowook instructs him to unveil the assorted side dishes while he retrieves the main event and the rice.

 

 

They’re able to eat together comfortably now. They have been seeing each other officially for a few months, and have finally reached a point where silence is not awkward. Quite the opposite, in fact. It’s reached the point where silence is genuinely comfortable. Donghae, at least, is quite content to simply bask in Ryeowook’s presence. And he knows that Ryeowook is self-conscious about eating—he always eats slowly, chewing carefully, and never as much as Donghae—but it seems that, over time, he might be slowly becoming more relaxed about it. (It makes sense. Ryeowook likes control in other areas of his life, so it makes sense that he controls eating carefully too.) Conversation-wise, there is nothing that urgently needs to be said, although Donghae does compliment the food, and ask questions to lure Ryeowook into describing the creation process, because Ryeowook is always at his most animated when talking about food, with enthusiasm so pure that it borders on childlike. But they let the silence return, and simply look at each other over the end of the meal, sharing lingering eye contact and an electric undercurrent of anticipation.

 

 

Lunch is followed in due course by tea, and tea is followed in due course by Ryeowook closing the blinds and switching on a small lamp in the corner instead. Donghae watches. The moment Ryeowook had gone to the window the draw the curtains, his nerves had begun to sing with impatience; the simmering warmth in his guts was stoked and fanned, the embers needing only the slightest encouragement to burst back into life.

 

 

Still, he holds to his seat on the couch. He can’t just give it up like that.

 

 

Ryeowook turns back from the lamp to survey him in the newly cool, dim room.

 

 

‘You know what’s coming, don’t you?’ he asks.

 

 

Donghae nods, ignoring the flood of gooseflesh at the sharp brightness of Ryeowook’s eyes.

 

 

‘Yes,’ he murmurs.

 

 

‘That little stunt in my office...’

 

 

Donghae bites his lip in an effort to hide the smile that threatens to break out over his face, but it fails abysmally. Ryeowook’s eyes flash, though he smiles too.

 

 

‘Right. I didn’t think you were sorry.’

 

 

‘I’m not,’ Donghae admits. He tries to do it assertively, but his face, as eternal, betrays him; a blush creeps across his cheeks. He wasn’t _sorry_ , but the recollection of being done on Ryeowook’s desk left him flushed and embarrassed.

 

 

‘You know I’m not going to _reward_ you for that,’ says Ryeowook.

 

 

Donghae nods. ‘I know.’

 

 

‘Good. Stand up.’

 

 

Donghae stands.

 

 

‘Go to the centre of the room.’

 

 

He went.

 

 

Ryeowook comes over to him and circles him slowly, looking him up and down, his gaze so intent that Donghae can practically feel the pressure of it over his body, like a caress, and his heartbeat quickens.

 

 

Ryeowook moves deliberately and carefully around him, in one full circle, then another half circle, coming to a stop behind him.

 

 

Donghae closes his eyes and tries to steady his breathing. He waits for the touch; almost quivering with anticipation already.

 

 

Ryeowook’s elegant fingertips brush his lips first. He is not expecting that, and they part as he breathes in a short gasp of surprise. Ryeowook seems to like that, the pad of one of his fingers catching on Donghae’s lower lip. It hovers a moment, then moves away. The fingers splay, and move gently down over Donghae’s throat, becoming a palm across his chest, then fingertips, tender and tantalising, over his stomach, before those intuitive fingers spread again to cup his dick and balls through the cloth of his pants. Gentle. Too gentle. Not fair.

 

 

He whimpers.

 

 

Ryeowook leans in, lips brushing the cartilage of Donghae’s ear. He says nothing. He is just _there_ , close, his breathing offensively even and relaxed as his fingers undulate softly and playfully over Donghae’s cock.

 

 

His tongue traces a line over the rim of Donghae’s ear, and Donghae whimpers again, jerking his head away reflexively.

 

 

This changes things: Ryeowook’s evil hand moves back up, like a lightning bolt, to take hold of Donghae’s chin and hold him still.

 

 

He does not lick him again, but instead moves soft lips and warm breath to Donghae’s throat.

 

 

‘Sshh,’ he says, a gentle warning, and Donghae nods ever so slightly against his steely grip. Ryeowook seems satisfied by this, and presses his lips to Donghae’s neck. They are warm and gentle. Before long, though, they part, and the sharp white teeth emerge, sinking lightly into Donghae’s skin. He has to fight to keep quiet, and it’s not easy when he feels Ryeowook begin to suck. The sensation covers him in gooseflesh and sends a shiver through him. He has to tighten his hands into fists to keep from crying out.

 

 

Ryeowook switches hands, turning Donghae’s head to place a symmetrical bite on the other side of his neck. Another wave of gooseflesh covers him; another shudder when the teeth come out.

 

 

But Ryeowook draws away after a little while, and then, Donghae finds himself enfolded in his arms.

 

 

Ryeowook is much stronger than he looks; Donghae still has not quite come to terms with this, but he leans into the embrace as much as he dares, closing his eyes and letting himself focus on the sensations of Ryeowook’s adventurous fingertips as they drift over his torso, pressing here and digging in there, and eventually coming to rest over his nipples, where they remain awhile, pinching and twisting lightly.

 

 

Donghae is doing what he can to maintain his equilibrium, but his breathing is quickening steadily. Ryeowook is pressed so close against his back, and it’s killing him with lust.

 

 

What he _wants_ is to be bent over and taken, but he thinks that perhaps he is not at liberty to ask for that today.

 

 

At long last, Ryeowook’s fingers move on, to the buttons of Hae’s shirt. Starting from the neck, he undoes them, his fingers fumbling slightly. That is the only sign that he might be losing his composure, but more likely he just can’t see what he’s doing.

 

 

He pulls it off of Hae when he’s done, and takes it away—goes to all the trouble of going into his room and getting a hanger. But Donghae knows his place: he remains where he was asked to stand, in the centre of the room.

 

 

He is rewarded; Ryeowook returns and stands before him, his exquisite features gentle as he surveys Donghae’s torso.

 

 

‘Beautiful,’ he says.

 

 

Donghae wants to beg, but he doesn’t dare. In the end his patience is rewarded when Ryeowook reaches for the button on his jeans and undoes it. Then the fly. He pulls the jeans down and away, and moves away again to place them neatly on the back of the sofa.

 

 

He comes back again, and his hands travel around Donghae’s hips before closing tight around his ass cheeks. The eye contact is unbearable. The squeezing has Donghae’s cock bouncing upwards merrily, and Ryeowook’s smile widening.

 

 

‘You’re still a little overdressed,’ he says, stepping away to lean against the nearby bookshelf. ‘Take the rest off too.’

 

 

So Donghae removes his own socks and underwear, item by item, slowly, because he knows how Ryeowook likes it. Mission completed, he resumes his previous stance.

 

 

Ryeowook’s eyes scour him again. They linger on his cock.

 

 

‘Kneel,’ he says, and Donghae does this too. He will be good today. He knows that if he is good, Ryeowook might go easy on him. So he kneels, and waits.

 

 

Ryeowook steps close again, looking down at him with those eyes. He gets this look, sometimes, that makes Donghae’s blood run hot and cold at the same time. Donghae turns his attention to Ryeowook’s dick, close to his face, unbearably distinct but inaccessible through his jeans.

 

 

‘Please,’ he says, eventually, and Ryeowook relents, undoing his own fly and tugging the jeans down, just enough. Donghae doesn’t do anything stupid, though. He doesn’t want this treat taken away from him. He waits for permission.

 

 

Ryeowook gives it with a hand on the back of his head. ‘Go on.’

 

 

Donghae goes.

 

 

When he starts, Ryeowook is only slightly hard. His willpower and self-control are truly remarkable. But the loving attention Donghae lavishes on the warm, thick dick brings it up to speed soon enough.

 

 

‘Stop,’ says Ryeowook, fingers tightening a little, and Donghae draws back obediently, looking up searchingly into Ryeowook’s face. He makes sure to keep his hands to himself.

 

 

Ryeowook stoops to kiss him on the mouth, and then, in one fell swoop, he is behind Donghae, kneeling with him, their bodies fitting together perfectly. His dick now rests gently between the lowest part of the curve of Hae’s ass cheeks. The tip of it brushes against his balls. The gentle pressure is incredible. And then one of Ryeowook’s elegant hands is wrapped around his cock, and moving. Painfully slow and consistent. It is the sweetest torture in the world. Donghae cannot hold back his whimper this time, and Ryeowook makes a soft, soothing noise, the fingers of his other hand coming to rest on Donghae’s lips again.

 

 

Donghae bites lightly at them. It helps distract him a little.

 

 

Of course, Ryeowook is not going to let him have what he wants. He is being punished for breaking Ryeowook’s self-control the last time. Ryeowook will not enter him today—just be close, unbearably close, and bring him right to the brink—yes, _yes_ , like that—

 

 

And then rob him of the ending; take away his hand, take away the friction, leaving only the throbbing sight of his own cock and the deliberately unsatisfying sensation of his full cock between his buttocks, but not _in him_.

 

 

Donghae whimpers again as Ryeowook withdraws even this small pleasure, returning to his feet, and standing before him again, his proud and beautiful erection red and wet at the tip.

 

 

They share a long, silent moment. One of Donghae‘s hands has crept to his cock, but Ryeowook shakes his head, and he returns it to his thigh, quivering with desperation.

 

 

‘Please,’ he whispers, ‘please,’ and opens his mouth, wide and waiting.

 

 

Ryeowook appears to come closer to the edge at this point. The look in his eyes is further away all of a sudden, and his own hand moves, as though with a mind of its own, to his dick, caressing and twisting and turning it gently, slowly becoming harder and faster and rougher until he comes, with a low moan, into Donghae’s waiting mouth.

 

 

Donghae extends his tongue, catching the final drips of thick, white semen, closing his eyes and licking his lips with relish, his shaking hands now curled into fists again on his thighs.

 

 

‘Please,’ he whispers, one final time, not daring to look up, and Ryeowook chuckles and kneels before him, and runs one finger from Donghae’s collarbone all the way down to the lowest muscle of his abdomen, where he stops.

 

 

‘Alright,’ he says softly, and the finger begins to travel back upwards again, and becomes two hands. He pushes Donghae down on the carpet, and one hand begins to play a little more roughly with Donghae’s chest, pulling at the muscle in a way that sent Donghae’s whole body into overdrive, rolling it gently. The other one wraps ever so gently around his throat.

 

 

Donghae is not sure why this makes him feel so safe and loved, but it does.

 

 

It's probably because this is love. He trusts Ryeowook enough to place his life in his hands, and Ryeowook holds it, and his heart, and keeps them safe.

 

 

His voice breaks into Hae's consciousness now, ever as soft as it is commanding.

 

 

‘You can let go now, Hae. Let go,’ he says, and it is instruction and invitation all in one.

 

 

So Donghae did, with the next rough curl of Ryeowook’s fingers through his musculature, as though Ryeowook had released not just a muscle, but Donghae’s very essence.

 

 

His entire body trembled and buckled as he came, the hot jets of it splattering across his own naked stomach, and Ryeowook's eyes, still so intent that they gave Donghae a physical sensation, watched with satisfaction as he came apart.

 

 

After a moment, Donghae's eyes fluttered open again to rest on Ryeowook's now-peaceful face. ‘Thank you,’ he whispered.

 

 

‘You’re welcome,' said Ryeowook. 'I love you.'


End file.
